


Forget Hate

by Softe_Gays



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greasers, Awkward Fist Fights, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gay Keith (Voltron), Homophobia, Its the Sixties what did you expect, Jock Lance (Voltron), Lance loves the Beatles, M/M, Mechanic Keith (Voltron), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Punk Keith (Voltron), Secret Relationship, Secret Stoner Lance (Voltron), Smoker Keith (Voltron), Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-08-19 23:25:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16544327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Softe_Gays/pseuds/Softe_Gays
Summary: There were a lot of things Keith hated.Jocks. The Beatles. Jocks. The school he acted like he owned. Jocks. Chemistry.Oh and did he mention jocks?Because he hated jocks.-A cliche enemies to friends to lovers fic that takes place in the late sixties ;)





	1. Cliche Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @blondeslytherin, Via (I can't remember ur ao3 @ love sorry), and Angus (@sheith_and_klance on ig) for proof reading this chapter for me! Love you guys <3<3<3
> 
> -
> 
> I also want to give a heads up that this au does take place in the sixties so there will be homophobia and some homophobic slurs but I'll put warnings on the chapters that have them! 
> 
> I'm also not done with 911/Mr. Lonely for anyone who's read it, I'm working on the second chapter but I've been hit with some writers block oof ;(
> 
> I hope you all enjoy <3<3<3

There were a lot of things Keith hated.

Jocks. The Beatles. Jocks. The school he acted like he owned. Jocks. Chemistry.

Oh and did he mention jocks?

Because he _hated_ jocks.

Well, there was a certain jock that he hated. He couldn't care less about the rest of them.

There was just _something_ about Lance McClain that made him grit his teeth every time he saw him. Made his blood boil and his fingers curl into fists with the urge to slam them into his unfairly perfect teeth.

So it really wasn't a surprise to anyone when he sneered at the boy when he passed him and his gaggle in the hall, his taunt of “Still with the slut I see,” being met by a scowl from the Cuban boy- who's arm was wrapped around the waist of a pretty brunette girl who wore a matching look of anger.

“Still bitter that your nasty ass bike is the closest thing you've got to a girlfriend I see,” Lance shot back, his grip tightening around the waist of the girl that Keith couldn't be bothered to remember the name of. Jess maybe.

That was pretty much the end of their interaction, Keith already walking away down the hall with his hand held out behind him to flip off the male as he prowled away. It's not like he actually cared what Lance thought about his lack of girlfriend- in fact he didn't care what Lance thought about him in general.

Keith didn't care about what anyone thought about him. At least that's what he always told himself.

He truly didn't mind the whispers that followed him down hallways, or the rowdy guy from his so called ‘club’ that’d occasionally leech onto his presence and follow him around. The giggling girls however, he could do without. No matter how clear he made it that he wasn't interested in their flirting, they never seemed to get the message.

The mysterious bad boy that rarely spoke to anyone unless he was fighting them, indifferent to the ladies yet popular among them- that was Keith Kogane to anyone who was asked.

There was already a group of girls that _just_ _so_ _happened_ to be crowded near his locker and Keith made no effort of holding back a scowl as he flung open his locker. Shiro always told him that if he kept scowling like that he'd get wrinkles at twenty- which usually was met with an even deeper scowl.

With a forcefulness that only resulted in poorly hidden giggles from behind him, he shoved a book from his last class into his surprisingly organized locker before pulling out his chemistry textbook. That's right, chemistry. Which he hated more than most things. Unfortunately it was one of those things that he couldn't outwardly hate.

Oddly enough Mr Wimbleton was not only his chemistry teacher, but his boss at Altea Auto as well. It was a strange combo but Wimbleton was a strange man.

Not bothering to shove the book into his bag, Keith shut his locker with a huff and made his way down the hall toward the dreaded class.

Wimbleton's room buzzed with chatter when he arrived, the class almost full by now. He made a beeline for his blissfully empty seat, sliding onto the stool and dropping his books onto the tabletop with a thump. One good thing came out of chemistry he supposed: none of his ‘friends’ were in it. Which meant he could quietly take his notes without distractions.

“You step in shit or something Kogane? You've got that look on your face.”

Scratch that.

He had one, _hugely_ _annoying_ , distraction.

For it was none other than Lance McClain that sat in the row ahead of his, staring him down with a shit eating grin as the larger boy beside him hid his face in his hands. Keith could vaguely hear him mutter something along the lines of, ‘Just _once_ Lance, leave the guy alone’.

An annoyed sneer curled Keith's lips, frustration furrowing his brow as he tossed back a retort. “No, but I sure as hell smell you- ever heard of deodorant?” He was pleased to see the way the grin wiped right off of Lance's face, replaced with an equally annoyed frown.

“You ever heard of shampoo? Your hairs greasier than McDonald's fries.” The quip was quick, the interaction seeming almost rehearsed in the ease of the insults being thrown. This one made Keith lift a distracted hand to his hair, his other gripped tight around his pencil- which he was seconds from throwing at the other boy.

Fortunately for Lance (and unfortunately for Keith), Mr Wimbleton chose that exact moment to enter the room. Setting his pencil down with a disappointed sigh, Keith turned his attention to the front, his scathing remark dying on his tongue.

“Greetings youngins, I hope you all had a wicked weekend. Unfortunately, you hooligans have a busy busy week ahead!”

The heavily accented voice rang loud through the air, cutting through the lingering chatter. In its wake rose a silence, the kind that wasn't _truly_ silent in that one could still hear the tapping of pencils and secretive murmurs.

“I don't smell bad, do I Hunk?”

The whispered words brought a victorious smirk to Keith's face. One that he quickly covered with a gloved hand, lest Wimbleton see and question him about it.

But it appeared as if the man had already fallen into one of his fanatical tales, recounting some event from the previously mentioned weekend. Something about a dog eating his class plans- not _his_ dog, _a_ dog. Wimbleton didn't own a dog, a fact that Keith was certain of. Then again, who truly knew what went on in that man's life.

The lesson soon began, which meant trying to filter what useful information he could manage out of strange euphemisms and slang he was almost certain was made up on the spot. It also meant tearing up tiny pieces of his notes to use as spitballs against Lance- no one had ever called Keith classy.

After having hit Lance with four out of seven (aim wasn't his thing, okay?), it seemed as though the boy had finally caught on to what was happening. Keith watched in amusement as Lance turned on his stool to glare at him, a knowing smirk on his own face. One that screamed, ‘what are you gonna do about it?’

The scathing look on Lance's face was only spurring him on though, filling him with that shit-disturber spark. For all he hated about the guy, Keith had to admit he quite enjoyed being a torment to him.

“McClain! Unless you plan on your grades dropping even more, I'd suggest you pay attention!”

Lance's head whipped around faster than Keith could blink, his shoulders dropping in embarrassment. If Keith were to squint he'd have noticed the flushed red colouring the tips of the boy's ears, however he was too busy trying to look innocent, hiding his smirk as he heard Lance's mumbled ‘sorry’.

But the world would only let Keith gloat for so long.

After another few minutes of note taking and silent glares, (Lance would peer over his shoulder from time to time) Mr Wimbleton decided to make Keith's life much worse.

“Your final project for this unit will be a group assignment-” Not bad on its own, but it caused a spike in the volume of murmurs, people already trying to figure out who'd be with who. “-But!” The chatter was quick to die out at the call. With the next words, havoc broke out. “I will be assigning the groups.”

All at once protests erupted, desperate looks were shot to friends and Keith sat calmly as ever, tracing the tip of his pencil along a line etched into the table top. It wasn't like finding a partner would be easy for him anyway- generally the last person without a group ended up with him. So long as his mark didn't drop he didn't care.

See, he would never admit it, but Keith cared about his grades- cared about them a _lot_.

As Wimbleton began to create groups Keith only listened for his own name, uncaring of who was paired with who. There were cheers as friends got put together and groans when they were separated- and Keith just continued to scratch at the desk.

“Ezor and Zethrid… Rachel and Shay…”

The list went on and on, and Keith was finding it difficult to focus with the rising volume- most notable in the boy in front of him.

“Okay so I work Thursday but if you come over Friday you can come over and stay the night- my mum is making that casserole you like, and we can work on the project of _course_ -” Seriously, did Lance ever shut up? Keith was almost certain the concept of being quiet was completely foreign to him. The guy beside Lance was also chatting away, but Keith had to admit it was a lot less annoying. From the few exchanges they'd shared, he'd decided he liked him- couldn't remember his name for the life of him though.

Just as Keith was getting another spitball ready he finally heard his name, but his partner…

“Lance and Keith!”

“What?!”

The outraged cry came from both of them, and the whole room seemed to quiet as attention was brought to the stirring drama.

“You've gotta be kidding me! Greasy McGrease Face?” Lance had all but jumped from his seat, outrage clear to Keith in the way he stood. He was no happier- his clenched fists and discarded spitball obvious to onlookers as he hissed a sharp ‘ _watch_ _it_ _McClain_ ' under his breath.

Their teacher seemed to have expected this reaction, not even looking up from his sheet of names as he twirled his moustache around his finger. “You're grades are below the acceptable level, I've paired you with the person achieving the highest marks in hopes to remedy that,” the man said cooly, not even sparing another second before moving on. “Hunk and Pidge, Nyma and Plaxum…”

Wimbleton's words had left Keith in a state of confusion- his grades were fine, the hell did he mean? But then he noticed something- Lance seemed to have deflated. His shoulders were slumped and this time he could see the red in the boy's ears. It was like a lightbulb had gone off in Keith's brain, making him grin as he relaxed his fists.

Lance was failing chemistry.

And he needed _his_ help.

It seemed so ridiculous; Keith help Lance? Edgy, loner Keith, help social butterfly jock Lance? _The_ Lance, the one he couldn't go five minutes without getting into an argument with? He couldn't help but laugh, a short burst that he quickly covered with a gloved hand. It earned him a dirty look from the boy in front of him, and Keith had to try to stifle his laughter.

_‘I have to help you.’_

The words seemed all too clear in the look on his face. Lance had turned on his stool to face him, looking equally embarrassed and pissed. “Is there a _problem_ Kogane?” He hissed, clearly trying to cover his humiliation with aggression.

Lips curling in a mocking smirk, Keith let his chin rest casually in his hand. Like a cat teasing a mouse. “Only if you bring my grade down,” he taunted quietly, _purred_ it in fact. He delighted in the fury that crossed Lance's face, leaned back with ease as the boy leapt towards him.

He was saved by the boy beside Lance, who'd moved with a surprising swiftness to hold his friend back.

“Let me _go_ Hunk!”

Ah. So that was his name.

The commotion had caught the attention of the room, and Mr Wimbelton actually frowned as he looked over. “Is there a problem boys?” A pointed look from the teacher was all it took for Lance to shrug himself out of Hunk's hold, throwing a scowl to Keith as he sat back on his stool.

Keith on the other hand relaxed back in his seat, his shit eating grin wider than ever. “No sir, no problem,” he assured innocently. In front of him Lance practically trembled in anger. Good.

Seemingly satisfied, Mr Wimbleton went back to reading off of his list and Keith finally allowed his shoulders to sag in defeat. Why _Lance_ of all people? Oh well… he could just do it all himself; his grade would be fine and he wouldn't have to talk to the other boy, and as a bonus, Lance might get a boost to his mark.

Then again, Keith never thought he'd be in the position of actually helping his so-called 'rival'.

With ten minutes to the bell, they were sent off to discuss project plans with their partners. Keith made sure to look as unbothered as he could as Lance turned to face him across the counter.

He'd noticed that nothing got on Lance's nerves quite like pretending he didn't care. Which he totally didn't, just for the record.

Faced with the boy that had minutes ago been trying to- what, fight him?- Keith found there was nothing to say. They sat in a seething silence for almost five minutes, the other sounds of the room drowned out over the teenage drama.

What _could_ he say? ‘ _Sorry_ _about_ _your_ _mark_ , _how_ _about_ _you_ _just_ _let_ _me_ _do_ _everything_ _so_ _that_ _you_ _don't_ _fuck_ _it_ _up_?’ Keith had the strangest feeling that wouldn't go over well.

So he said something along those lines anyway.

“Look, why don't you just let me do the work? We won't have to talk to each other and we'll both get good grades,” he said at last, sounding almost bored as he leaned back in his seat, but there was no denying the taunt in his words. He watched the spark of anger flare up in Lance's gorgeous blue eyes with a pleased hum, before his own eyes widened slightly and he looked away quickly.

He wasn't going to let his thoughts go down that path.

Ever.

There was an incomprehensible murmur from the boy who's gaze he avoided, but after a pause Keith finally looked up. “Didn't catch that last part,” he stated gruffly, decidedly not looking Lance in the eyes.

“I said…” The boy's timid voice trailed off, more uncertain than Keith had ever heard before. It made his mouth go dry and his eyes pinch together, confusion holding his tongue. “Well…” Lance shifted in his seat, reaching up to rub the back of his neck in notable awkwardness.

“Spit it out already,” Keith interjected impatiently, squirming slightly in his seat. He had a bad feeling about this.

Lance seemed to freeze up a bit, his eyes widening as he quickly brought his hand down. “Right, uhh… fuck, okay- do you think we could maybe… work together on the project?” He made a face as if he'd eaten something sour, not even registering Keith's blink of surprise. “God this is stupid… I actually do wanna learn shit so… I wanna help.”

That was… well, Keith didn't know what to think.

This was probably the longest they'd ever gone without snapping at each other, how did Lance think that they could ever do a whole project? A project that _he'd_ wanted to do on is own… Keith didn't work well with other people. But technically, this was Lance's project too.

Sighing heavily, Keith buried his face in his hands, murmuring a soft ‘damnit’. He completely missed the hurt look that flickered over Lance's face, still staying hidden himself as he thought it over. “… Fine,” he agreed reluctantly, lifting his head finally and taking in the surprise on the other boy's face.

Narrowing his eyes skeptically, Keith didn't say a word as he closed his notebook and tucked his pen into one of many pockets on his jacket. “If you make my grade drop, I'm gonna kick your ass,” he warned, low and dangerous. Just because they were partners didn't mean he would be nice.

Any uncertainty on Lance's face was instantly overcome by a scowl and Keith nearly sighed in relief. That was more like it. “Didn't realize you were such a stuck up nerd,” the boy grumbled, turning in his seat to face his own desk as the bell went.

“Watch it McClain,” Keith hissed once more, grabbing his books and tucking them under his arm as he hopped down off his stool. Glaring at the boy as he heard him laughing, he practically growled as he passed him. “Got something on your back dickwad,” he spat out, listening in glee as Lance made a disgruntled noise as (Keith assumed) he discovered the spitballs he'd left.

It left a satisfied smirk on his face as he slipped out into the hall.


	2. Keith Gets a Boner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets in a fight at lunch and things get… heated. 
> 
> ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the title is pretty self explanatory but there's nothing actually explicit (in a sexual sense. There's lots of explicit language ;)) 
> 
> This chapter is a little on the short side but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless :)

 

“So you and McClain huh?”

“Shut up.”

News travels fast apparently. Their's was a small town, a small community, filled with big mouths.

It was only twenty minutes into lunch and it seemed as though everyone knew about Keith's assigned parter. The people here were vultures; they latched onto anything even remotely 'juicy' and spread gossip like wildfire. He was definitely considering putting it up there on his list of things he hated.

Sitting on one of the top benches of the bleachers, Keith let out an annoyed sigh as smoke curled up from the cigarette held between his fingers. It had been starting to cool down outside lately, the warmth of summer leeching away with the arrival of the school year. Currently it was only mid September, but it felt like it had been an eternity since school had started again.

The leaves were still green for the most part, but Keith could spot a few patches of orange and red, oddly alive against the dead grey of the cloud filled sky. It kinda made him want to paint.

Bringing the cigarette to his lips he took a long drag, closing his eyes as he held the putrid smoke for a moment before breathing it out. Grey wisps curled from his mouth, quickly growing faint in the air as the breeze disturbed it. Another something Shiro had told him not to do; apparently he was concerned for his health, but Keith had a feeling that his dear brother just didn't like the smell.

Corners of his mouth downturned in a scowl, Keith opened his eyes slowly, blinking through the dullness that seemed to coat the football pitch. Shiro… Shiro wasn't someone he wanted on his mind right now.

“So what're you gonna do? Beat his ass?” Antok again, pressing on despite the command to drop it. Keith's scowl deepened, and he considered just telling him to shut up again. But he knew the boy would just keep asking until he got some kind of response.

With another drag of the cigarette, Keith let it dangle between his lips as he lowered his hand. “Thinkin' 'bout it,” he muttered, rubbing his jean clad thighs in an attempt to warm them. ‘ _Think I'll beat your ass_ ,’ is what he _wanted_ to say, but he held his tongue. For now.

Antok sat on the step just below him, his own cigarette dangling from a crooked smile. He wore a leather jacket similar to Keith's, except he wore his with the collar up- the guy was on the short side and had somehow gotten it into his head that the look made him seem 'more intimidating'. Unlike Keith his hair was dark brown, cut short and slicked back with an ungodly amount of hair product.

Most days he had the desire to thread his fingers in the dark strands and give it a hard yank to make the boy shut up. Some days that was exactly what he did.

Plucking the cigarette from his lips, Keith gave it a flick towards Antok, ashes scattering in the boy's direction but coming nowhere near touching him. “Where's everyone else?” He asked distractedly, rolling his shoulders back as he gazed out over the field. Normally they had a sizeable group, but it was just him and Antok now.

“Why? My presence not enough your highness?” Antok goaded, quickly hushed by Keith's death glare. “Gettin' food. Sal's is givin' away free slices,” he answered at last, scowling as he took a drag.

Technically they were a club. _The_ _Blades of Marmora_. Realistically they were a gang, a clique. A bunch of leather wearing assholes with total disregard for the rules; in other words, the perfect place for Keith to find himself.

“Yeah? Any reason you're not getting one yourself?” He questioned, titling his head as he heard the immediate scoff.

“Are you kidding? Sarah would kill me. ‘Do this diet with me, it's good for your health!’- since when has anyone cared about health?”

A slow smirk began to spread across Keith's face but he hid it with a hand as he lifted the cigarette back to his lips.

“She's not here to stop you,” he teased lowly, the devilish smirk clear in his tone of voice. Lance may be his favourite person to make fun of, but he could never resist picking fights with the other Blades.

“Women _know_ things man. It's like they're always watching or some shit- not that you'd know, would you.”

It's true, he wouldn't.

Ignoring the jibe at his love life, Keith taunted right back. “What are ya, scared of her? Is that why you're here, to cower in fear of a cheerleader?” Seeing the way Antok's head whipped around to glare at him sent a thrill of exhilaration through him.

‘ _Here it comes_.’

“You calling me coward?”

“Isn't it obvious? Or are you stupid too?”

Keith barely had a chance to scramble to his feet as Antok lunged at him.

Now, it's not like Keith was _running_ from him. He'd just prefer not to get knocked off the highest steps of the bleachers.

Darting around the furious boy, Keith all but hurtled down to the pavement, his cigarette falling from his hand somewhere along the way. His booted feet had barely touched the asphalt before a heavy weight slammed into him- Antok had jumped him.

“Who you calling coward now huh?” The boy demanded, clinging to Keith as he tried to keep his balance. But his knees were buckling under the weight, tense as he fought to stay upright.

“You, bitch,” Keith shot back with a dry laugh, the sound turning to a wheeze as Antok slammed a fist into his stomach. He jerked his elbow back in retaliation, relishing in the grunt the other boy let out. His veins buzzed with adrenaline, his pulse thundering in his ears to the point that he couldn't even hear Antok's retort.

And then there was a kick to the back of his foot, his leg being pulled right out from under him. They both went tumbling to the ground, Keith dragging Antok down with him as he hit the pavement. If it weren't for his gloves, the rocky ground would've shredded his palms. A shock of indignation shot through Keith, and suddenly things were a blur.

Fists hit flesh and bodies rolled against the rock, knuckles and lips alike splitting with hisses and stings. Keith could hear nothing but the grunts they made and the impact of punches, heavy in the air, melting together to the point that he couldn't tell who was doing what. And then suddenly, _somehow_ , Antok was above him. _Behind_ him.

He was pinned, the heavy weight of the other boy pressed hard against his back, the uneven breathing heavy against his ear as a strong hand held the side of his face to the ground. Things seemed to freeze, and all Keith could do was try and catch his breath as the buzz of adrenaline gave way to a wave of warmth.

It was too much, too heavy and hot, and Keith was… he was…

_Fuck_.

“Hey,” he gasped, eyes squeezing shut as he fought against a shiver. He couldn't think with Antok's hot breath so close to his ear. His gasp was met with another grunt and the pressure of the other boy pushing him harder into the ground. It pulled a groan from him, spilling from his lips as what that tingling warmth unfurled, spreading from his gut.

‘ _Nononono, please no_.’

“Hey,” he repeated, ragged and airy. Desperation barely hidden. “Let me up jackass,” he demanded, voice weak to his own ears.

He didn't _want_ Antok to let him up. He wanted him to press closer, closer, _closer_.

“Still think I'm a coward?” Antok pressed, his voice airy too- and simmering with a rage that almost made Keith break.

Gritting his teeth at the question, Keith squirmed slightly beneath his opponent, but all that did was make things worse, made him inhale sharply. Yet what little of his pride remained prevented him from giving an answer to the question.

Antok's weight pressed closer, forcing Keith further into the ground- he couldn't move, couldn't fight it. He was frozen out of fear of what would happen if Antok noticed, humiliation making his face flush. But then the weight above him was gone, and Keith could hear the sound of the boy standing. It was so much easier to think without someone breathing in his ear.

Antok was speaking but Keith couldn't hear it, too busy scrambling to his feet lest the boy change his mind and pounce him again. No more could he feel the cool fall breeze against his heated skin. He missed the ice of his nose and fingertips, preferred it to feeling like he was about to combust.

Spitting to the side, Keith reached up to dust the pieces of rock stuck to the side of his face, feeling warm wet against his fingers. Antok was ranting on behind him, calling _him_ a coward. And as Keith stood with shoulders hunched, that was exactly what he felt like.

“Fuck you man,” he snapped, the intended bite to his words lacking in confidence. But he couldn't just stand here and continue to fight- he had to _go_.

So he turned on his heel to walk away, the heat in his face becoming smouldering as the jab of 'coward' rang through his mind.

Risking a glare over his shoulder, he watched as Antok leered back at him, eyes fiery and teeth barred with a sneer. He could only imagine the shit he'd be in if the boy knew.

\-----

It was as Keith was nearing the parking lot of the school where he kept his bike that he passed the rest of the Blades, most holding pop cans and paper plates with greasy slices of pizza on them. They were shoving each other around, shouting and laughing, and somehow grew even louder at the sight of him.

“Yo Kogane! Who beat you up?”

“How'd that dirt taste?”

Keith's fist clenched around the keys to his bike, hidden within the pocket of his jacket. Sometimes he really hated these people.

It took an effort to just ignore them and move on- with the heat that still simmered in his veins, the last thing he needed was to get into another fight. Yet despite his obvious seething, there was one guy that held back as the rest of the boys moved on, their jeers fading slowly.

“Ran into Shiro at Sal's,” the guy said, oblivious to the way Keith suddenly tensed up. “Said he'd be home late, something about a biology project.”

‘ _Biology? That's what he's calling it?’_

Gritting his teeth, Keith gave a sharp nod, already turning away from the boy. “Thanks,” he grumbled, lips curled in his usual scowl as he made his way to his bike.

He knew what Shiro was actually doing, _who_ he was seeing. Every time Keith thought about it his brain started to hurt.

_'Well_ ,’ he thought, slinging a leg over his bike. ‘ _At least he won't be home to cook dinner_.’


End file.
